The grand master plan.
Isn't life ironic,
how a few tears turn to rain.
Showering our life with the memory of pain.
Isn't it sad,
how many just give up.
Just cut short their lives,
thanks to a streak of 'bad luck'.
Don't you find it funny,
how all those that remain,
are finally the ones that are left with their pain.
What was the grand master plan?
Were men originally meant to be crushed by man?
Brother, sister all the same,
all participate in this unworthy game.
Trying to prove their worth or status more,
even if this leads to war.
We aren't worthy of our claim,
as long as we fight amongst ourselves like this.
It really is a shame
that all this fighting can bring is deaths kiss.
ESTÁS LEYENDO
Paper Cut Eyes
PoetryThese are just some of the poems I write. My emotions in writing.
